


The Seventh Pomegranate Seed

by joestarlight (wolfishscribbles)



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Greek Mythology inspired au, M/M, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-12 00:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfishscribbles/pseuds/joestarlight
Summary: After a trip to a museum, a part of Ryo begins to awaken that has been trapped for a long time. But in order to become what he once was, there is a great deal that he and Akira must overcome, together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my version of a ‘fix it’ ending, and is going to draw from the characters of Persephone and Hades from Greek mythology, though go in my own direction with them. Smut is very much a part of this. It is set in Crybaby verse, so if you have seen that you will be fine, but I won’t rule out the possibility of aspects from Devilman Lady and Shin Devilman seeping through (no knowledge of those necessary to read, of course!) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and would really appreciate comments and feedback, as I am working hard to improve my writing. I can also be found on twitter (username joestarlight_) and tumblr (username joestarlight) Thank you for giving my work a look! <3

The museum trip had been Akira’s idea, but Ryo was unhappy to find his devilish friend hunched over and frowning before they had even made it through a single room. He had initially been curious; even when containing a demon inside him, his natural desire to know the world around him always shone through his inquisitive brown eyes. But as they drew past a painting of a man and a woman locked in a fierce kiss, his dark eyebrows began to furrow, and his head dropped down low. Ryo was certain that the painting was not the problem, only the thoughts that roamed through his dear friend’s head. He sighed deeply and shoved his hands down into the pocket of his coat.

 

“Are you thinking about those two again?” Ryo asked, deciding that dallying around the point was not a proper use of either of their times. He was met with only a grunt as an answer. Turning his attention from Akira up to the painting, he took note of the tight grip the two had about each other, as if they would not allow for separation even in the face of some of the harshest obstacles. It was an impressive sentiment, one he could even relate to. After all, nothing would separate him from Akira. They would save this world from the demons, and then the world would be as it was again.

 

“I know what I saw last night, Ryo. Sirene, that beautiful birdlike demon, she loved Amon enough to fight me for him.” Akira’s voice remained low, as there were others roaming the gallery, but there was still a gravity in his tone. “And Kaim, he gave his life for her. That is two examples right there.”

 

“I really don’t think that you could call that love,” Ryo folded his arms across his chest, turning from Akira back to the painting before them. “Perhaps it had echoes of it, but it is not the same thing as human love. It was merely lust, without the emotions behind it that separate humans and demons.” He reached out and placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “The world we are protecting is a world not only of lust, but of love.”

 

“I guess so.” Akira replied in such a manner that Ryo knew he did not fully believe it. “And I know we are protecting the world, but sometimes I…” He shook his head and opted to change the topic. “Let’s keep going. I wanna see some swords and naked statues.” With his best impression of being his usual self, he flashed Ryo a goofy grin and strided into the next room. Ryo followed close behind.

 

They were entering a Greco-Roman portion of the museum, filled with large vases of orange and black, the well worn remnants of ancient chariots, delicate stone carvings, and tall statues of marble in varying conditions, as well as states of dress. Ryo stopped to read the excavation notes on the carefully pieced together fragment of a sword, while Akira gazed up at the white marble of a woman’s bare torso. At least they could successfully scratch those off the ‘to see’ list.

 

The centerpiece of the room was a statue of a woman, nude and in distress, being carried away by a large, bearded man. Once he had finished taking in the charms of other nude sculptures, Akira stepped over, making a circle around the statue. Ryo watched two other tourists step out of his way, as prey might from a predator. He abandoned the ancient jewelry he had been admiring, and joined Akira at the statue’s front.

 

“ _The Rape of Persephone_ ,” Akira read from the card, lifting his eyes back up to stare at the statue. “Hey, I remember this story. Didn’t Hades kidnap her and trick her to stay in hell with him for half the year?”

 

“Indeed.” Ryo examined the distressed look of the maiden with a cool expression. “She unwittingly ate six pomegranate seeds, the food of the dead, so she would spend six months below in hell, and the earth grew dead and cold without her.” Ryo pressed his hands into his pockets, as if he could feel the winter coming on. “Then, six months later she would return, making the earth warm and fertile.” He brought a finger to his chin and tapped it lightly in thought

 

“Poor girl,” Akira shook his head and looked down from the statue to his clenched fist. “No one deserves to be raped and kidnapped like that.” Ryo looked to Akira’s fist, noting the new quirks in his old friend. Once, he would have started to tear up first, and clenched his fist second. Now, the anger was always the first thing to break through, though the fat, wet drops were never far behind.

 

“There are other theories among some groups of scholars that the myths which have been passed down to us are not in fact how they were originally told.” Now Ryo began to circle around the statue himself to take in the other angles, his long, pale fingers running across the wooden barrier surrounding the pedestal. “Archaeologist have found evidence of Persephone being worshiped in the Neolithic era, before the rise of the Greeks and Romans.”

 

“Do you mean that she existed in the Stone Age?” Akira quirked a brow as he examined her face. The look of distress and vulnerability did not give off the impression of a goddess more ancient than the ancients.

 

“Indeed. She was supposedly a dual goddess of the spring and of death. We have no way of knowing for certain as there are no written records, but the potential is there.” Akira shoved his hands deep in his jean pockets, side eyeing the statue.

 

“Dragging innocent spring maidens down into the depth of hell…it sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Bitterness drenched his voice, and Akira moved on to look at a chariot wheel, but the shadow of the statue stayed looming over them both.

 

The rest of the museum trip moved on in peace. Ryo and Akira visited a wing with a selection of classical woodblock prints, showing maiko displaying their extravagant hairstyles, and samurai with their top knots and swords. A collection of buddha statues from varying eras and countries piqued Ryo’s interest, and Akira patiently paced the wing, though the final exhibit interested him more. It contained armor and swords that had seen battle, some with chips in the metal or holes in the leather. The delicately typed note cards explained that they had indeed seen battle. Akira inhaled deeply, bringing his face close to the glass, and then pulling away. The shadow of his dark mood had fallen again.

 

“I know better, but I still think I smell like blood,” he whispered, loud enough so that only Ryo could hear. Ryo stepped forward and ran a hand across the wide expanse of Akira’s shoulder blades. He leaned in close, so that his lips were near his ear.

 

“Is that was this is all about, Akira? You only smell of soap to me. You are clean, cleaner than most things in this world.” Akira tilted his head and smiled crookedly at him.

 

“I don’t know about that. If we think back to the Greek statue, I’m sure as hell not the innocent flower maiden that was plucked from the pure good earth.” He turned about, his back to the glass, Ryo’s hands now resting comfortably on his chest. “I am probably more like the underworld god that took her away.”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, he stood to his full height, and sniffed the air. “Now I’m starving. Let’s stop at the cafe, even though it’s going to be overpriced.” The thought of food brought a grin to his face, one that reminded Ryo of their childhood.

 

“Price is no issue, get whatever you wish,” Ryo replied with a flourish of his hand in the direction of the door. “Will you still be coming to my home after? I wanted to brief you on the plans for next week.”

 

“Sure, I’ll stop by. But after, I promised that I would meet Miki and practice with her. I don’t want to break my word again.” And with that Akira stepped into the restaurant, leaving Ryo to ponder if breaking his word was indeed the only reason he did not want to miss tonight’s practice.

~*~

_Everything was immensely bright, from the sky to the grass to the pale skin that made up his body. Sunlight fell over his arms, bare except for several gold bangles, and a white, beaded bracelet. Soft white silk draped over his body, tying in the back like a toga and spreading like a waterfall of white silk behind him. He felt his hair tickle his cheeks, and lifted a hand to brush it back. It was longer than he was used to, flowing over his shoulders, and adorned with small, white flowers._

 

_Around him was a rolling field of grass, and he reached down to brush his hands along the blades. Like dancers on cue, the stems stood tall and the green opened to reveal beautiful exotic flowers. Each and every place he touched was like this, and soon, he found himself surrounded by a rolling garden filled to the brim with fauna and flora. It was an absolute Eden._

 

_This feeling of peace, warm, and belonging went on for a time, but little by little, a sense of foreboding fell across Ryo like a shadow. A shiver rolled from the top of his spine down through his body, and he felt all his nerves heighten to their peak. Similarly, the world around him grew dark, and the flowers that had bloomed so brightly in the sunlight closed their petals. On the horizon loomed a dark figure, small at first, but drawing closer and closer._

 

_“Ryo.” He heard his name, deep and without honorifics, but still, the voice was familiar. As the figure drew closer, Ryo could make out the muscular physique of Akira, hair unruly and the shadow of a beard on his face. His eyes were on him with an intensity that made Ryo shiver once again. This time, however, it was not with fear, but with something slightly more pleasant. Excitement? Anticipation?_

 

_“Join with me.” The words left his lips fiercely, and his arms, draped in black, reached out to swallow the white. “Join with me, Ryo. Don’t deny yourself.” Akira’s arms felt long and and warm around him, hands sinking down the small of his back and stopping over his rear._

 

_Arousal. He could feel it spreading from his cock, into his belly, and creating a haze of warmth about him, akin to that created by liquor. Akira was right, he couldn’t deny it. His nipples began to harden, his mouth left slightly open, just enough for Akira to lean in and press his tongue inside, giving him a tiny taste of satisfaction. Soon, Akira’s black clad form was straddling him, the tall grass swaying around them, uncertain whether to grow or to die in the presence of two different masters. A hand moved to the single broach that had been holding Ryo’s clothing shut and removed it. The fabric spilled and Akira’s head dipped down to suck a pink nipple, teasing it with his tongue as he felt the hot, heavy pressure of his erection against him._

 

_He struggled with himself, as one side of him wanted to just give in and let Akira fuck him, and the other side wanted to do the fucking himself, on his own terms, in his own home, not rolling upon the grass like a bitch in heat._

 

_“I am not giving in to you so easily!” With a cry of rage, he pushed up on Akira’s chest, hard enough to make a heavy thud as the other man fell back, the grass beneath him dying under his weight. Ryo’s own body hated the feel of disconnect, yearned to have the flesh meet flesh again. Still, he stood fully nude before Akira, his hands on his hips, staring down in protest. Akira reached out, fingers turning into long dark claws, but Ryo raised a hand and smacked it away as if it were nothing._

 

_And then Akira laughed._

 

_“Your face is flushed.” he said._

 

Ryo awoke in bed with a start, bringing a hand to his cheek and feeling the heat. He was in his bed, alone, the sheets and the walls around him as familiar as could be.

 

“Well, shit.”

 

_To Be Continued.._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone's interest on the last chapter! I apologize that my updates are sporadic, I am working full time and editing my first novel, but I am really eager to write this fic as well, and hope it can help me break up my other writing and give me more practice!
> 
> In the second half of this chapter, there is a scene where they/them pronouns are used for Ryo, as it is from Akira's perspective and he, in its context (where Ryo is resembling his canon Satan form) is unaware of his gender. This may be a bit over cautious of me, but in case anyone is uncomfortable with this, I just wanted to let readers know ahead of time.
> 
> Thank you again, and if you can spare the time to comment, it would mean a lot! <3

 

Akira’s fist ripped through the chest of a multi-armed demon, his Devilman form coated in the brown liquid that was its blood. This demon showed no signs of humanity, only a taste for violence. Each of its arm sprang from an insect like body segment, covered in thick black armor, while its head sported bulging orange eyes and an ugly beak reminicent of two sharpened tusks. Akira had nearly been decapitated by the creature, but a well aimed shot by Ryo had succeeded in delaying it long enough for Akira to strike.

 

The smoke from the gun was clearing, and Devilman tore the body in two, its appendages twitching as the life was drained from them. Ryo’s eyes were upon him, and probably the eye of his camera as well. But Akira did not stop there. Claws curled into fists, and punch after punch kept the creature from taking any kind of chance to reform. It was dead, and from the corner of his eye, he saw that Ryo had lifted a hand.

 

“Akira, you can pull back now.” As if he had not heard, monstrous fists continued to fall into the creature’s form, with a blood lust behind his eyes that would definitely make for a horrifying sight on Ryo’s videos later on. Even as he rampaged on, he could imagine how he looked, his Devilman form tearing through the demon like a starving predator through a kill. But he wasn’t starving, and no other lives were at stake. He simply chose not to stop.

 

Or was it Amon who was making the choice?

 

Ryo’s footfalls were audible as he stepped up to the creature, his white shoes making a nasty splat into the dank, brown liquid that spilled through out the scene of the battle.

 

“Akira, did you hear me? It’s over.” Still, he did not desist, pulling out a long, black, tendril, and squeezing it into a thick pulp. “You don’t need to continue…Akira!” The last cry came as a shout, and Ryo’s coat was splattered with the foul smelling mixture of blood and guts. Devilman’s own glowing eyes met Ryo’s blue ones, and only then did his body begin to shift back.

 

“Ryo..” Akira murmured, bringing a hand, now smaller and smooth to his forehead, pinching it. “I’m sorry, did I get you messy?” His body was trembling like one who had run a marathon while sick, and he fell to his knees.

 

“It’s fine. You look cold, though.” Quickly shrugging out of his coat, Ryo draped it over his shoulders. Akira could feel the fabric of the coat soaking up some of the blood.

 

“I am not cold,” Akira promptly replied, though he could not bring himself to give the coat back. The weight of it was reassuring, as if it was tethering him to the ground and keeping him from floating away. Bringing a hand to his head, he shook it hard. “I’m just…disoriented. I’ll be fine.”

 

“You appear the opposite of fine right now.” Ryo leaned down, helping him up to his feet and looking him over. A quick survey of his body assured him that there were no broken bones or injuries beyond a few scratches. With that established, they walked back to the car in silence, Akira’s gaze distant the entire time. That outburst had not been like him, and Ryo would know it. Placing the key into the ignition, Ryo started the car, every so often glancing to the bundle of white and brown splatters that sat in his passenger seat.

 

“From what I gathered of the scene, there was only one casualty. Did the demon kill someone you knew?”

 

“No.” Akira’s response was gruff, his mind still racing from the heat of battle. Of course Ryo would want an explanation for outburst, and he did not have an answer to give. “It was only one person this time, I stopped it before it could do anymore damage.”

 

“Yes, indeed, you certainly stopped it.” Ryo’s eyes were fixed on the road, and they both grew silent. Akira pulled the large, white coat closed, fingers clenched tight about the fabric as the city passed quickly before his his eyes through the glass window.

 

Once back within the confines of the white walls, the silence had grown awkward. Ryo placed a hand on Akira’s shoulder, spinning him around to face him, and letting his fingers drift down his arm. There was a language to touch, and while it was not one he was well versed in speaking, he took Akira’s hand into his own and squeezed it tightly. Blue eyes looked expectantly into Akira’s brown, and slowly, the anger began to melt away. With the anger gone, the tears began to fall.

 

“Will you tell me what is wrong now?” Ryo asked, hand still clasping Akira’s own, noting the sweat and traces of demon blood that were mingling with his own, cooler grasp. His free hand balled up and began to rub away the tears.

 

“I don’t feel like myself, Ryo. I feel as if the Devilman part of me is taking control, and that soon there will be no difference between the two.” Ryo’s hand began to rub small circles over Akira’s shoulders, which had become broader since Amon entered his body. Slowly, the arms began to encircle him, pulling him close in a way that had not happened in a long time, probably since they were children. Their foreheads touched, and Ryo brought a hand to one of Akira’s dark strands, rubbing it to remove the drying demon blood.

 

“You are always Akira.” He ushered him towards the bathroom, which like everything else, was lavish and white. Closing the door behind them both, he lifted his hands to the coat and gently slid it to the floor, the rest of Akira’s clothing clothing being a mess of scraps. Akira carefully picked them off, leaving them in a bloody pile on the corner of the floor. The water was turned on, and Ryo turned back to face him, not even so much as blinking at Akira’s state. “You could never stop being Akira, even when Devilman. Even when covered in blood.” And Akira took solace in the fact that his best friend said those words with absolute honesty.

 

Their eyes met and there was a change in the quality of the air. Yes, there was added warmth from the water, but there was something else as well. Neither of them moved, and Akira had to wonder if his old self would have felt the rising heat in the pit of his stomach, blissfully unaware of the glean in Ryo’s blue eyes, and the way the space between them felt electric. His eyes traveled down the rest of Ryo’s body, and he could feel his admiration rapidly turning into lust. Lust was Amon’s realm, and he did not want Amon to have any part in this.

 

“Sorry,” Akira spoke hastily, pulling back and breaking the hold. “I-I…Ryo, I’m dating Miki.” The words blurted out without thought, falling off his tongue as the easiest excuse he could concieve. He did not want to approach the idea of having nonplantonic chemistry with Ryo, not now, not like this. Ryo blinked, and then tilted his head in confusion.

 

“Dating her? What does that have to do with me?”

 

“I just…if you bathed me, it might be weird. I’m sorry.” Inwardly, Akira cursed himself. His face grew hot with the knowledge that he had just woven a tangled web of lies on top of an even more tangled set of feelings. “It’s been a hard night, I’m just going to towel off, grab my spare clothes, and go home.”

 

“Akira…” Ryo’s voice, still calm and steady, held concern, but Akira had already grabbed a towel, wiping off the worst of the brown stains from his tanned skin. He burst forth from the bathroom like a soda that had been shaken up, grabbing his clothes from the pile laid out for him by Jenny, and putting them on at record speed.

 

It was foolish and childish to run from this, and Akira knew it, even as slammed the door to the apartment behind him. There was so much he was afraid of involving the demons and Devilman, and even more when it came to his feelings for Ryo. He felt as if he was holding a stick of dynamite in each hand, one for his devilman persona, and one for his feelings for Ryo. A fire was coming, and running was all he could do to keep from exploding.

 

Five cheeseburgers and a long walk home later, a thorougly exhausted Akira fell down onto his bed, sleep capturing him before his head even touched the pillow.

 

~*~

 

 

_A blackened landscape stretched out before Akira, like an oilpainting that had all the brightness drained out of it. The ground beneath him was hard and cold, all signs of grass and vegitation dead and dry, though in the distance, a river was clearly flowing through. But the water was dark, sharp rocks and boulders scattered through out it, moving fast enough to drown a man. Not a living soul could be seen for miles around, and for good reason - this was the land of the dead._

_It was his responsibility to be here, and it had not been his choice. Surely the ocean or the sky would have made for a more lovely domain. But he had been the youngest brother, and left to rule over what remained. He had never been one to sherk away from duty, particularly when that duty involved family. And, as he surveyed his realm, he had to commend himself, for his realm was well taken care of and had its own strange brand of peace._

_But it was still the realm of the dead. And he was still forced to walk it alone._

_Though there were times, every so often, when he would feel as if he was not so alone, and was left with that unsettling feel that someone was watching. Today, it went one step beyond, where he could actually hear laughter in the distance. Frowning, he stepped up to the river’s edge, and stared across its broad surface to the other side._

_“I know you are there, so why remain hiding?” He called out, before letting a long, hard sigh leave his body. Much to his surprise, the laughter came again, ringing through his ears like tiny bells, and then standing on a boulder in the middle of the water appeared a figure. They were clothed all in white with accents of gold, blond hair flowing over their shoulders, piercing blue eyes filled with mischief and meeting his own. He could not tell whether they were man or woman, yet one fact was painfully clear: they were the most beautiful person he had ever beheld._

_“So it’s you,” they exclaimed with amusement, as their hands rose to fiddle with one of the white flower buds woven within their hair. “You are the one who has been ruling over my old domain.” Effortlessly, they leaped from one bolder to another, and he could see the pale dove wings that adorned their feet. He raised a brow at them, and folded his arms across his chest._

_“Your old domain? You do not look like type who mingles with the dead.” He was greeted with more of that pleasant laugh, and they leapt to another rock, this time one very near to shore._

_Now Akira’s look of amusement turned to a frown, and he put up his hands. “Don’t come any closer. If you stay here long enough, you will not be able to leave alive.” As if in answer, they leaped next onto the small patched of ground directly in front of him, leaving them so close together that it would not have taken much to pull them into his grasps and drag them back to his home._

_“I’m not afraid of you,” they said, and then reached between his legs and squeezed tightly._

 

Akira awoke with another mess on his ceiling, with a dream where he had barely been groped, by a figure whose familiarity to Ryo could not be denied.

 

“Fucking hell.”

 


End file.
